


Warmth

by mormonsagainstmasturbation (weedcheese)



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Mating Cycles/In Heat, Other, anorgasmia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 07:13:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18773809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weedcheese/pseuds/mormonsagainstmasturbation





	Warmth

My ached as she shuffled through the long, dewy grass of spring’s first rain. Her fur itched and stuck to her skin, and her slit burned with need.  
Any other time she’d spend her heat sulking indoors, clawing and biting and sipping catmint tea. But the wind brought with it an enticing scent, thick and sweet and horribly intoxicating. Her fur stood on end at the prospect. A toffle, and in its first heat.

It was quite easy to track such a thing, of course. One doesn’t move much in such a state, not without good reason. She curled through the underbrush and slunk beneath tangled roots, an ever-present sense of getting closer.

Before long, Little My found her prize. A sweet, small little thing, lapping uselessly at itself.  
Of course, any other day, My would have taken the time to taunt a shy little thing like that, but in the moment there was no species, no prey or predator, only two small beasts in a pitiful, desperate state.   
Wordlessly they drew closer, circling, stretching, curling about eachother, mapping out their forms before melting into a violent, careless embrace.  
It wasn’t as if My much enjoyed it, of course, it’s quite hard to find enjoyment in something one must do. But there was, in a sense, a pleasure to it. In those moments tangled with another she couldn’t think of the itch that trailed beneath her skin, or the painful heat in the pit of her stomach. In those fleeting moments, there was nothing in the world but herself and the stranger that writhed in her paws.

When it ended, there were no fireworks, no wash of relief, only a slow fade to disinterest, wherein she'd slink away and leave the creep trembling in her wake, unquelled and desperate for release. My had no time for that. It wasn't her problem anymore.


End file.
